It has nothing to do with my sparkling personality.

The only reason Christian married me: Boobs

I had to order a very low cut bra today (and let me tell you, not an easy task for those of us with large racks) to wear with a slutty dress (that only looks slutty on me, and no one else who wears it, due to the excess of boobage) for this weekend and he's overly excited:

"Three cheers for cleavage!
Hip Hip...Hooray!
Hip Hip...Hooray!
Hip Hip...Hooray!
(And don't you dare post this on your blog)"

I'm glad someone likes it, because I'd have it all sucked out in an instant if I could.

I want to become an structural engineer and manufacture bras for really large busted women that are pink and fluffy and very low in front without the enormous strip of reinforced fabric holding the cups together that shows under even the most modest decolletage.

I also want to teach every person who works in the lingerie section of every store on the planet that 36G does NOT equal 38DDD. It just doesn't. I'm going to have to do some sewin'.